Page 52 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
Coco barked—high pitched and loud. She sat by the doorway like a very small, slightly judgemental security guard. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, but her eyes said,Try to run. See what happens.
What had I gotten myself into?
Each of our wine glasses were full. I eyed mine with the focus of someone spotting a life raft after being lost at sea for days.
Would it look bad if I downed it all in one gulp?
I glanced at Marc. This afternoon flashed through my mind, fast and uninvited—the animal shelter, the terrible fluorescent lighting, the moment we’d both leaned in like we’d forgotten we were supposed to hate each other. The warmth of his body. The way his eyes dropped to my mouth for a half a second and then gone carefully blank, like he’d caught himself doing somethinghe hadn’t intended. How I’d kind of wanted him to close that distance between us.
Fuck it. I grabbed my glass and took a big gulp.
Marc’s eyes cut to me with unmistakable censure.
There he is. Dr. Moral Superiority, present and accounted for.
Judgemental asshole.
I considered sticking my tongue out at him, but settled for a dignified glare instead.
Whatever brief, accidental humanity I’d glimpsed in him earlier today was clearly an aberration.Thiswas Marc. The Marc who’d questioned my camp presentations as though he were a junior prosecutor. The Marc who’d pointed out, in front of everyone, that my parents hadn’t actually come to parents’ weekend. The Marc who had moved on from delivering that observation with all the emotional investment of someone reading a weather report.
That first summer lived in me like a bruise that never fully healed. I’d been ten and already raw about being the kid who got sent away every summer while her parents did whatever it was they did when they didn’t want a kid underfoot.
He’d made my wound visible in front of people I wanted to impress.
I hadn’t forgiven him for that.
I didn’twantto forgive him for that, because my anger was useful. Anger wassafe. It kept the other, more inconvenient feelings neatly contained in a box I’d labeledDo Not Open.
Glamma cleared her throat.
“Right.” I snapped back to the present.
She placed a hand on my arm with the practiced ease of a woman who’d spent decades reading rooms. “I thought we’d begin with a few icebreakers before dinner.”
I barely stopped my lips from curling in disgust. Ihatedicebreakers. They existed to torture people.
“Icebreakers,” Marc said in a tone that suggested the word physically pained him.
“Don’t make that face,” Goldie said cheerfully, not looking up from her clipboard. Her vibrant gown made me reassess my clothing choice once again. “It’ll freeze like that.”
“We aren’t twelve,” he responded.
“You’re acting like it,” Martha replied pleasantly, also writing something down. What was she even writing? We hadn’t said anything clipboard-worthy yet. Right?
Gladys, her short salt-and-pepper hair immaculate, also wearing a ballgown, tapped her pen against the table. “The compatibility cards will go first.”
“Compatibility—” Marc started. “We’re running a yoga class. Not dating.”
“Oh, put a sock in it,” Goldie said, with a cheerful laugh. “We know you’re not dating. Althoooooough—” She tilted her head and exchanged a brief look with Glamma that I absolutely didnotmiss.
“The foundation for a great partnership,” Glamma said smoothly, “is understanding how the other person operates. You’re running an event together. These cards we made will help.”
They’d made the cards. They had made actual cards for this. I suddenly had a vivid mental image of these four women sitting around a kitchen table crafting an intervention packet, and I couldn’t decide if it was the most terrifying or most touching thing I’d ever encountered.
Martha nodded. “You two need to learn to get along. There’s too much at stake.”
Marc visibly swallowed and gave a curt nod.
